


Key Change

by IdrisTardis7878



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Captain Cobra Swan, Captain Swan - Freeform, F/M, FLUUUUUUFFF, Swan Believer, but serious, fluffy stuff ahead, with a bit of real feeling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-09
Updated: 2018-12-09
Packaged: 2019-09-14 17:48:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16917462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IdrisTardis7878/pseuds/IdrisTardis7878
Summary: When Killian keeps losing his key to their new house, Emma decides to take matters into her own hands in order to make it feel a bit more like *their* home.





	Key Change

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on tumblr on July 5, 2016.

He was always losing his key.

At first, it had surprised Emma. Enough of the well-trained Naval lieutenant still lurked within Killian to make him habitually neat – shoes were always lined up near the front door as soon as they came off, everything had its proper place in the kitchen, and sofa pillows were tilted and set just so (when the two of them weren’t curled up among them, that is). His shirts and vests hung in an orderly fashion in their closet, his socks and underwear nestled in perfectly folded bundles in his designated dresser drawers, and when not in use his few toiletries marched in a tidy row across his half of the bathroom vanity.

Coupled with the military orderliness, his years as a pirate had left him with a keen alertness and finely-honed powers of observation.  _After all, Swan,_  as he often said,  _a pirate who doesn’t keep their wits about them and their eyes on their target isn’t likely to be a pirate for long._  He also took great delight in pointing out that, after 300 years not only as a pirate but, in his words, “one hell of a Captain,” he was more perceptive than most. (Something she knew to be true from first-hand experience).

And yet, when it came to his house key, the man was hopeless.

They’d finally –  _finally_  – moved into the large gabled house together about a month and a half ago, after a couple of weeks spent bunking on the Jolly while they had rid the house of any and all décor that had screamed “the Dark One lived here,” repainted, and refurnished the place with things they both liked.

It was  _their_ home, truly, and the time they’d been living there together (along with Henry, when he wasn’t with Regina) had been, quite literally, the happiest time Emma could remember.

But Killian had lost his house key four times since move in day. After the initial surprise over his apparent new habit had worn off, it had amused Emma, but now it was beginning to puzzle her a bit – and it was a little frustrating, if she were honest.

After the third time, she’d had the fleeting thought that perhaps he subconsciously regretted moving in with her and that the repeatedly missing keys were the way his mind was trying to alert him to that fact. (Confirmed True Love notwithstanding, sometimes Emma’s old demons rose up and bared their ugly, scaly heads. That specific brand of insecurity hardly ever struck her anymore, particularly relating to Killian – but hey, she’s only human, and sometimes the old habits are the very hardest to root out and let go).

She’d dismissed the idea in a heartbeat, though – truly, she  _does_  know better, especially when it comes to him, and to  _them_. And she could see how upset the losses were making him. He’d been trying not to let on to her, but she could see his teeth clench, and subsequently the muscle in his jaw tic, whenever he discovered the newest disappearance. It was the surest sign that he was out of sorts, and yet he said nothing in an attempt to keep her from worrying. Still, she noticed – when it came to him she noticed  _everything_  – and it made a little ache spring to life in a corner of her heart.

It was after the fourth, and most recent, time he misplaced his key that Emma finally hit upon a solution.

It was  _so_  simple, so  _right_ , that she wondered why it hadn’t occurred to her sooner. But the important thing was that it had now.

Working it out required a little bit of stealth and trickery – things she knew Killian would appreciate – and she had to move quickly to put her plan into action. The day after Killian’s fourth key went missing, Emma went to see Storybrooke’s locksmith and get the supplies she would need to make an impression of a key. (Normally, this was the sort of thing a locksmith insisted on doing themselves, but in this case, for the Sherriff, an exception was made).

One she had what she needed, she just had to wait for the right opportunity. She thought it wouldn’t come until Killian was asleep later that night, but as luck would have it when she returned to the house after work, she found him asleep on their couch. He was adorably rumpled – a rare occurrence – with his shirt untucked, dark hair ruffled in all directions, and a copy of the collected works of Robert Louis Stevenson (research for the town’s latest problem, of course) splayed open face down on his chest. His brace and hook were off, lying innocuously on the coffee table nearby.

Emma grinned to herself, kicked off her shoes, and padded quietly towards him, careful not to wake him up.

 _Perfect_.

-/-

A couple of days later, Emma’s plan had come to fruition, the final pieces falling into place while she and Killian had taken the Jolly out for a spontaneous and romantic late afternoon sail.

(Well…at least  _he_ thought it was spontaneous).

In reality, it was a bit of misdirection so that she could get him away from the house for the afternoon. Henry – all too willing to be her co-conspirator in what he’d dubbed Operation Open Sesame – was stationed there overseeing the plan’s final touches (and occasionally texting her emoji-riddled updates).

When they docked at sunset, Emma suggested a leisurely walk home to further take advantage of the beautiful weather. (Henry had texted her as Killian was pulling the Jolly into her berth, saying that the job was all finished and he was on his way to Regina’s for the night). Killian readily agreed and they strolled through the deepening shadows of the early summer twilight, arms linked and her chin tucked into the crook of his shoulder. When they drew up to their front steps, Killian fell back a pace or two, letting Emma lead the way up to the porch as he often did.

But instead of pulling out her key and opening the door, she simply turned to face him with an expectant look. He quirked a confused eyebrow at her in return.

“Something the matter, love?” he asked, ascending the first few steps so that his face was just below hers.

“Nope,” she said brightly, resting her hands on his shoulders and leaning down to close the slight gap between them. She gave him a brief, smacking kiss and pulled back to grin at him. “I just think you should be the one to unlock the door tonight.”

A shadow fell over his face and his brows furrowed as he tilted his head down, looking away from her. A flash of remorse at tricking him raced over her, especially when his jaw started up its telltale tic, but she forced herself to remember  _why_  she was doing this.

 _And besides, it’ll all get better in about five seconds if he’d just **say**  something so that we can get on with the big reveal, ****_she thought impatiently.

Finally, he lifted his gaze back to hers, still looking slightly troubled. He hesitated a beat before speaking. “I can’t, love. I’ve no key – it’s been lost again. It keeps happening and I don’t bloody know why. I’m sorry – it’s completely unintentional, and extremely vexing.”

“Yeah, I don’t know why it keeps happening either,” she said with a smile, her still upbeat attitude apparently confusing him further, as his brows drew down again. “But it’s okay, and  _actually_ , to be perfectly accurate, you  _do_  have your key.”

“Swan?” he queried, tilting his head at her.

She reached forward and gently grabbed hold of his hook, using it to draw him up the last few steps to stand beside her on the porch. She brought it up between them and tapped the curve lightly with her fingers before tracing gently down to where the base clicked into his brace. “Right here,” she murmured softly. “Why don’t you try it?”

When their gazes locked again, she could see the dawning comprehension in his eyes, mixed with a wealth of deep emotion. “Swan,” he began again. “What did you do?”

She arched a brow at him. “I think you’ve figured it out, sailor,” she replied.

“Aye, perhaps…but perhaps I just wish for you to confirm it,” he glanced briefly down at his hook before slipping his free arm around her waist and pulling her closer to him.

She exhaled slowly before speaking. “I  _may_ have borrowed–”

“Stolen,” he interjected playfully.

“ _Borrowed_ ,” she reiterated with a mock glare before continuing. “I may have borrowed your hook and had the locks in the house remade and changed to match the key in the base.”

“ _All_  of the locks?” he asked, a tinge of awe creeping into his tone.

Emma shrugged gently. “Yeah. I know you never really said anything when you lost your keys, but I could tell it upset you. This is  _our_  home, Killian. You should be able to open or lock the damn doors without waiting for me or Henry.” She looked up at him intently, hoping he would also see in her gaze all the things she  _hadn’t_  said aloud.  _You should feel like you own part of it, just as much as we do…you should feel like it’s **yours** , like it’s  **ours** , like it’s  **home**._

She knew he’d discerned the fullness of her meaning when her favorite of his grins – the one that meant “open book, Swan” – spread across his face and he used the hand on her waist to begin steering her closer to the door. Suddenly, she remembered one more thing she’d wanted to tell him. “Oh, and of course I had new keys cut to match for me and Hen–”

He cut her off abruptly, backing her up against the still closed door and slanting his lips over hers. Her arms wound themselves around his neck as she let him set the pace, pulling him closer as he deepened the kiss. Practically before she could blink, Killian had pinned her firmly to the door with his hips while their tongues tangled together and he wrapped his hooked arm behind her, his hand drifting up to play with the ends of her hair.

“Killi-Killian,” she gasped, tearing her mouth from his and tilting her head back till it thunked against the wood behind her. He simply proceeded to lay soft, wet kisses down the exposed line of her neck, sucking and nipping as he went. He lingered long enough at the spot where her collarbone peeked out of her shirt that she just  _knew_  he was working a bruise into her skin that would last for the next couple of days. All of that  _really_  wasn’t helping with her coherence, but somehow she managed to finish her thought – though her voice was fairly breathless as she continued. “I’m glad you like it, but may…maybe y-you could actually, y’know,  _use_ it before my Dad comes along and arrests us both for indecent exposure?”

She felt as much as heard the chuckle that rumbled through him. It preceded the unmistakable clicks of his hook being removed from his brace and inserted into the front door lock and twisted. He barely had the time to breathe “an excellent idea, love,” before she was blindly reaching behind her back to turn the knob. They stumbled inside in a tangle of limbs, punctuated by sloppy kisses and giddy laughter.

The lock clicked shut behind them, its extremely satisfying snap reverberating out into the quiet summer night.


End file.
